Page 64 of The Perfect Rose

“Nonsense. I’ve seen the way you’ve paid her special attention the past couple days. You have given rise to expectations; it would be dishonorable for you to refuse at this point.”

He stood taller. “I would reconsider the way you remember this house party, Lady Gardner. Lady Rose is a friend, and I wish her the best, but I have promised myself to another.”

“Oh pish. There is not another woman in all of England that could play the part of duchess better than my Rose.”

Odd, it almost sounded like Rose’s mother was proud of her. The duke met eyes with Rose, and she wished she could disappear altogether; his gaze, though, was full of consideration, not malice. “Rose Gardner could play the part of anyone of noble birth, if she wished it. She has proven that tenfold this past season. But perhaps you would consider allowing her to just be herself, without all the playacting.”

“You do not have the sensibilities that I possess, Your Grace. I am her mother, and I know what is best for her.”

“And what is that?” His tone turned hard.

Her mother gestured to him with both hands. “To marry you, of course. Isn’t that the dream of every debutante?”

Rose cringed. Until recently, her mother would have been correct . . . and the thought burned a hole through Rose’s stomach.

“I believe that is the dream of every debutante’s mother. Not of the debutantes themselves.” He turned to Rose. “What do you want, Lady Rose?”

She swallowed hard but kept eye contact with the duke. He was her friend, and he was here to help her through this. “I want to marry Mr. Hastings. But he has not offered for me.”

“And he won’t,” her mother cut in. “I told him quite pointedly on the way up here that he should not. Besides, I will retain the entirety of your dowry from you unless you marry a man with a title,” her mother fumed.

Rose felt the blood drain from her face as she looked up at her mother’s glare. Never had Rose seen her so riled. But she could practically see inside her mother’s brain. Everything she’d hoped for her daughter, everything she’d worked for, was being taken away from her. But more importantly, she’d just limited Rose’s marriageable options to one man here: Lord Hanby.

“No.” Rose blurted, “I won’t marry Lord Hanby. There are things about him that you do not know, mother. It would not do to align our family with him.”

“Do enlighten me,” she challenged.

“He made a bet at White’s that he would marry me by Christmas,” Rose blurted before the implications of her accusation were solidified in her mind.

Her mother’s eyes narrowed. “A likely story. As true ladies are not allowed at White’s, I wonder where you received your information. Do you have any proof of your claim?”

Rose stole a glance at the duke and he looked away, his jaw clenched. Her mind flew to the book she buried in the bottom of her wardrobe. If she brought that book to her mother, she would have evidence that Lord Hanby was a ridiculous man, and one that would dishonor their family. She swallowed. She would not do that to Miriam. Although Rose didn’t read the entirety of the pages, she was certain public knowledge of that book would sully her friend’s happiness. Rose couldn’t put Miriam through that, even if it meant she had to find another way out of her situation. “I do not have any physical proof, no.”

Her mother raised one eyebrow. “How convenient.”

The duke cleared his throat. “I have seen the bet in the books, Lady Gardner. Would you consider my word as evidence?” He stood tall and imposing, threatening even.

If her mother called the duke a liar, Rose instinctively knew that all hope for their family name would be lost. “Bet or no, I’m not allowing a silly sum to get in the way of your marriage, Rose.” She turned to the Duke and Dowager Duchess of Gilfordshire. “Would you please allow me to speak to my daughter in private?”

The duke nodded and helped his mother to stand. “We will be in the ballroom should you need us.” Then he walked over to Rose and bowed close to the bed. In hushed tones he spoke, “Thank you for protecting Miriam.”

He knew. Somehow, he knew that she defended her friend. And that mattered to Rose. If nothing else, she could leave this evening behind her knowing that she had done something right.

She nodded to him before he left.

As soon as the door clicked shut, her mother began to pace. “Why, after all I’ve done for you? How could you have turned out to be so selfish? Your sisters deserve to have a season without you lording over them. I refuse to sponsor you for another year. In fact, if you refuse to marry Lord Hanby right now, I will write up a contract with Mr. Dillard on your behalf this very night.”

Rose’s stomach soured. Mr. Dillard did not even try to keep up the appearance of a gentleman. At least with Lord Hanby, she would have slightly more respect, if she was lucky. But marrying either of them seemed completely unfathomable. She loved someone else, and even if he didn’t love her back, he had changed her. Frederick Hastings had shown her that she was valued as a friend and seen as a person. “Can I not marry Mr. Hastings, mother?”

Her mother pinched the bridge of her nose. “I feel as if I’m talking to a simpleton. He has not asked for you to marry him.” She narrowed her eyes at Rose. “No title, no dowry. Those are your terms.”

A slash cut across Rose’s heart. Frederick wasn’t even induced to marry her with her twenty thousand pounds. Without it, she had no hope and no time remaining. “Very well.” Rose stood and straightened her dress. “I will go speak to Lord Hanby.” She forced the words to come, halting and unsure. But then, she felt nothing. She should have seen something like this coming. Her mother was unflappable. Rose’s desires didn’t matter to her. Only the way she would be seen in society. Of course the requirements were ever changing . . . nothing Rose ever did was good enough. She straightened her dress and walked past her smug mother, her feet moving of their own volition. She felt as if she were watching herself through a window.

If marrying Lord Hanby was her only option, and the only gentleman offering to marry her, her path was clear. It was the only way she would come to end the torment of her failure of a season. And it was the only means of escaping living under the same roof as her mother.

The musicians played a lively country dance in the ballroom, but her entrance to the room was blocked by a tall figure with hair the color of sunshine and eyes the color of grass. The world seemed stacked against her tonight. She had to pass by him to get into the ballroom. She looked at his chest and dipped into a curtsey. “Excuse me, Mr. Hastings.”

“Lady Rose . . . are . . . are you well?”